


February Face

by Cymbelines



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Birthdays, Body Worship, Bottom Will, Established Relationship, Hair-pulling, M/M, Mentions of Voyeurism, Murder Husbands, Overstimulation, Second chapter is the spicy one, Top Hannibal, fluff until it's not opps, light dom/sub dynamic, tummy love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-14 17:58:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5752882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cymbelines/pseuds/Cymbelines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will woke then, turning to Hannibal with narrowed eyes. “I don’t celebrate my birthday. I never have.”</p><p>“I would like to,” Hannibal said, speaking gently. “If you’d allow it, I have something planned for us both. I think you’d enjoy it.”</p><p>“I can think of something else I’d enjoy,” Will sighed, drawing closer so that his face slotted easily against the solidity of Hannibal’s chest. He worked to slip his arms around the older man’s neck and, underneath the mess of their bedsheets, his foot slid coyly over the run of Hannibal’s calve. “Don’t get up. Just stay here with me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [strangestorys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangestorys/gifts).



 You have such a February face, /So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness.

 – William Shakespeare, _Much Ado About Nothing_

 

As the first beams of daylight spilled forward from their bedroom window, Hannibal considered the man who shared his bed. Though it had been well-over a year since they abandoned their old lives, leaving what remained of Francis Dolarhyde in their wake, Will Graham remained a constant source of wonder and surprise. For the better half of his life, Hannibal thought himself wholly and utterly alone. After Mischa had been taken from him, Hannibal became accustomed to the stinging sorrow of isolation and, concentrating his life in art, death, and luxury, dulled its gnawing.

Gently, Hannibal brushed a few wild strands of hair away from Will’s shut eyes. Curled towards him in bed, their legs comfortably entangled under warm bedding, Hannibal could drink in every precious detail of his face- the dark fan of his eyelashes, the prominence of his brow, the alluring shape of his mouth. How could Hannibal had ever known? The question ached in him to the point of sorrow. How could he had ever imagined to find a man of the same dark materials as himself? Hannibal laid half-convinced that they jointly shared a soul, that something primordial and basic lingered spiritually joint between them. He felt a knot in his throat, a stinging in his eyes.

Leaning forward, Hannibal closed the scant distance between them and kissed his partner’s forehead. Will groaned in the fussy, stubborn attitude he often had in the mornings.

“Good morning,” Hannibal said gently, running his thumb affectionately over the rise of Will’s cheek. “You ought to get up now. We’ve got quite the day ahead of us.”

Will shook his head, his hands groping blindly under the covers until they fisted over the fabric of Hannibal’s pajama shirt. “Got something planned?” said Will, his voice groggy and sweet with sleep.

“It’s your birthday.”

Will woke then, turning to face with Hannibal narrowed eyes. “I don’t celebrate it. Never have.”

“I would like to,” Hannibal said, speaking gently. “If you’d allow it, I have something planned for us both. I think you’d enjoy it.”

“I can think of something else I’d enjoy,” Will sighed, drawing closer to him so that his face slotted easily against the solidity of Hannibal’s chest. He worked to slip his arms around the older man’s neck and, underneath the mess of their bedsheets, his foot slid coyly over the run of Hannibal’s calve “Don’t get up. Just stay here with me.”

Hannibal smiled, turning his head away when Will cupped his cheek and attempted to kiss him. If Hannibal humored him for only a moment, they both knew, Will would have his way. “I’ve got to make our breakfast,” he insisted.

“But it’s my _birthday_ ,” Will sighed, turning on his back and stretching showily across the bed, arching his back and stretching his neck with an audible hum of satisfaction. “I thought you wanted me to enjoy my birthday.”

“You’re very clever,” Hannibal said. “But I’ll be waiting for you in the kitchen.”

* * *

 

Breakfast had been unusually simple by Hannibal’s standards. The plate was set expectantly for Will at the table, a more-roundabout form of scrambled eggs garnished with scallions and crème fraiche, toasted bread, and roasted vegetables. He drank his coffee happily, soothed by its warmth and pleased when Hannibal’s hand found its way around Will’s own.

“Hey,” Will said, spotting a piece of roasted tomato on Hannibal’s plate and snatching it up with his fork. He watched as Hannibal’s eyes trailed from his plate and lingered over Will’s mouth. “When I said I don’t celebrate my birthday, I wasn’t trying to be rude. I’ve never really liked the pomp and focus of celebration. I didn’t grow up with it. For a long time, my dad and I didn’t have the means.”

He took a breath, looking towards the dinning room windows. France was easy and bright with the Sunday morning, the February frost nipping at the corner of the windows. “Back then, with my dad, we couldn’t afford a lot for birthdays. Money was scarce, work needed to be done, and my father never really had a knack for things like that. So, we’d settle on sharing a favorite meal or a day off from school. That was enough. When he passed he took those days with him. After that, birthdays just left me sore all over.”

Will recognized that Hannibal was carefully considering his reply, taking care with his words. His fingers squeezed Will’s own gently. “I understand that. Special occasions can be difficult. The importance of certain dates- anniversaries, holidays, birthdays- carry within themselves a a sort of expectation that often feels impossible to shake off completely.”

“Disappointment stings,” Will said.

“I’d like it if you gave your birthday day another try. If you don’t like it, we won’t do this again. One final disappoint you won’t have to endure again. If you _do_ enjoy it, we count it as a pleasant surprise. You have very little to lose either way.”

Will looked at Hannibal, then, trying to divine his motivation. “Does this really matter so much to you?”

“You matter.”

Those words made something in Will’s chest tighten. Snapshots of memory came fluttering to mind: their shared experience over the bluff, their time spent in healing, their shared passion just last night. Will touched the crook of his own neck, his fingertips running a curious line over the curve of muscle and skin where Hannibal's mouth had been hours before. Will rose his eyes to Hannibal’s, only to find that he had turned his focus towards the windows and that something in him suddenly felt contemplative and wonderful.

“You matter very much to me, Will,” Hannibal continued with consideration, as if measuring his words. “It matters very much to me that I celebrate you and the gift you are to me.”

Will sighed, his eyes fixed to the ceiling in defeat. “Just promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Nothing big,” Will said, opening his hand and prompting Hannibal to follow so that their fingers stretched, lined against one another, before intertwining. “Please.”

“Nothing big,” he said, voice earnest as a promise.

* * *

 

The trip to Fécamp wasn’t an uncomfortably long one. As as a soft voice crooned lovingly on the radio, they spoke easily and enjoyed casual lapses of silence. When they arrived, Will understood why Hannibal had insisted on so many layers of clothing. The air was sharp and biting with cold, a lingering frost that spoke of nearby water. He looked around, unsure of how this small and rustic town had captured Hannibal's attentions.   
  
"Is there still a lot left to go?" Will asked, pulling the collar of his coat up towards his face. It wasn't suffice for the frost in the air.

"Not at all," Hannibal said as he turned to present Will with a scarf and, after having secured it around his neck, pressing a pair of gloves into Will's freezing hands.

Hannibal turned to lead into the coastal town with all the flourished secrecy of an illusionist. Will took careful note of the scenery as if searching for a tell to Hannibal's trick. He couldn't divine what Hannibal had planned. Hannibal had never mentioned this town before and, of all their potential victims, Will couldn't remember any of them hailing from such a place. This was a place of neither sentimental value or more heinous intent. The mystery of Hannibal's intentions only thickened.

As they walked into a small shop, bells rang quite suddenly above them and shook Will out of his thoughts. Jogged into awareness, Will quickly realized they had stepped into a fisherman's shop. The store was adorned with such an array of fishing and boating equipment that Will felt an excitement he hadn't experienced in years. As Hannibal turned to person behind the counter, an old man whose eyes with wrinkled with smiling, and spoke to him in a language Will recognized but still couldn't understand.

Will looked about the shop with unfiltered curiosity until he felt Hannibal's hand over his arm. Together, they followed the old fisherman back out into the cold and, walking some ways to some nearby docks, were happily presented with a fishing boat. It was immaculate in its humble beauty, its glossy white curves adorned with a simple and graceful line of deep red.

"Go on," the old man spoke as he began notion Will towards the boat, apologetic in his broken english and almost contagious with his good graces. "All yours."

"What does he mean?" Will asked, turning to Hannibal suspiciously, his confusion cornered with an edge of excitement and disbelief. "He can't possibly mean- you didn't get this for me, did you?"

Hannibal kept a deliberate silence, his cheeks beginning to color from the cold. 

Will laughed, despite himself, and took a few timid steps towards the boat that bobbed rhythmically over the clear water. He touched the bow, impressed by the smooth chill of its surface. "You promised me you wouldn't do anything big."

"I've honored my promise. This isn't a particularly big boat," Hannibal said. He accepted the sharp look Will gave him, visibly pleased when Will's reluctance melted away into an enthusiastic disbelief. He laughed, shaking his head in speechlessness, and the breath of his laughter misted the air in white puffs of warmth.

Will took one careful step into the boat, lingering over the experience before setting his second foot to follow. Hannibal promptly followed, watchful as Will ventured into the boat with as much devotion as one would some grand, old cathedral. The prospect of the sea, Hannibal knew, offered Will the same unequivocal sanctuary. In time, the boat was divorced from its mooring and Will, nearly floored when Hannibal handed him the keys to the ship's engine, held his breath as the ship came to life, roaring to settle into a soothing and steady murmuring. As they distanced themselves from the docks, Fécamp revealed itself beautifully as a town of cliffs, a harbor of small houses faced towards the sea as if in line for worship. Moving ever onwards, Will turned to look behind so that the sight of the old fisherman, with his rosy cheeks and bright eyes that spoke of a deeply-held warmth, waned smoothly into the coastline. 

* * *

 

“There’s something I do before I cast a line,” Will told Hannibal, as they stood looking out onto the water. The cold hung heavily around them, the sun shining bright and offering them rays of subtle warmth from above. “It’s an old fisherman’s superstition, something I picked up from my father- before you cast your line, you name the bait on your hook after someone you love. If your love is returned, the line will catch.”

Hannibal considered the hook in his hands, his thumb running a painful line over its sharp edges. “A superstition over the question reciprocity. Mischa believed in something of the similar vein- she would rub dandelions under my chin, believing that if pollen stuck to the skin her love for me was returned.”

Will looked out onto the water, eager to start. There was something physically satisfying about fishing. They had spoken of it, once, curious about the similarities between retreating into sport and retreating into music. Like playing the harpsichord, the satisfaction of fishing was not only practical or emotional, but a physical soothing of a practice that took to retiring itself in muscle-memory. Will liked the swing of the fishing rood, the way the hook would dive satisfyingly into the water.

"I'll have to teach you how to this," Will said, watching as Hannibal studied the fishing rod in his hands. His fingers, red with cold, lingered over the mechanics of its reel. "It's all relatively straight-forward once you start, but I don't know if you'll enjoy it. It's fine if you don't."

The man beside him took a breath. "That's not necessarily what matters. I confess I've never quite held an interesting in fishing, but I always enjoy a new experience."

"Far too interested in hunting, isn't that right?"

"We can't all have a penchant for both, dear Will." 

Will nodded solemnly, setting his equipment down so he could come behind Hannibal, his arms loose around his frame. "Let me teach you, then. Casting is easy enough, but you might need help. " he said, propping his chin over Hannibal's shoulder. Hannibal leaned into his touch, breathing deep of the scent of him over the smell of the cold and the sea.

"Thank you," Will spoke, his voice soft and low in Hannibal's ear. "This is more than I could've asked for. Hell, I would've been happy enough if we just stayed in bed all day."

"That isn't entirely out of the question," Hannibal replied. Will could hear the smile in his voice and he brought a hand over the solidity of Hannibal's chest, intentional with how he brushed soothingly downward to his stomach. "Later- to make up for all this cold." 

"It's _really_ fucking cold, too," Will laughed, nudging at Hannibal's forehead with his own. He took in a deep breath, sighing contently as he thought on the way their bodies slotted together, despite the layers of bundled clothing. Will imagined the clothes thrown haplessly over the floor of their apartment. He imagined, too, returning to sea in the summer, sunbathing together in the crisp beginnings of June. He imagined what could come of that- the touch of their arms, the entanglement of their legs, the prospect of Hannibal taking him openly where no one else could see. Here, in their little boat upon the sea, where the world would lay vast and endless and all the world's people- with all their banality and vulnerability- left far behind. Will closed his eyes to the thought of how precious and sweet it would be to take or be taken here with all rough eagerness that defined them both. 

"Later," Hannibal repeated, as if reading his thoughts. His free hand touched Will's thigh affectionately, quelling Will's thoughts to a quiet ember. "Until then, I'm at your disposition- teach me how to go about this." 

Will stood upright, his hand over the curved metal of Hannibal's hook. "Give me a name, true to tradition. Did you want to name it after Mischa?"

"Would you rather I name it after you?"

“You don’t have to. My reciprocity isn’t a question."

"Should I be so confident in the knowledge that you love me? Should I really leave no room for doubt?"

Will considered him, before turning away to take hold of his own fishing rod. "I sometimes feel that what we have is something more than that, something of a different nature entirely. No one speaks of the sort of connection we have- of how I could kill and die for you and, perhaps, because of you. Dark things blossom inevitability between us and, mutually, beautiful, wonderful things do as well. So, that it's never been like this before you and- If there's ever a moment of my life after you- I know I'll never feel this way again."

"Love in its purest form, perhaps. An affection infinitely capable of goodness and blood." 

Will brought the cold, sharp metal of Hannibal's hook to his mouth and blessed it with a kiss. "The bait we'll be using is in that box there, Hannibal, to your right. I'll name mine after Mischa, if you'll allow it. Whatever remains of her in this world, I'd like to hope she approves of me."

Taking off his clothes, Hannibal followed instruction. Opening the box, he was momentarily surprised to discover it brimming with bloodworms. He dipped his finger inside curiously, his fingers colored crimson red. "Then mine will be named after Abigail Hobbs."

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Hang [upon me] like a fruit, my soul, / Till the tree die”

William Shakespeare, _Cymbeline_

 

The night unfurled easily, like a smooth ripple across time’s smooth and watery surface. Hannibal and Will returned their boat to its mooring and, once home, prepared dinner with what they took from the sea. They speak easily of many things, sharing stories of the nearly-forgotten experiences of their wildly different youths. They fell into the slow and steady preamble of falling into bed together even easier, their affection sweetened by the light glow of shared wine.

“You’ve been very good to me,” Will began, taking Hannibal’s hand in his own and drawing him out of the dining room, towards the stairs. “But it’s _still_ my birthday and you _still_ haven’t taken me to bed.”

“That can be amended very easily.” Hannibal’s voice was warm with happiness, rounded and sweet in a way that still caught Will unawares. “Are you abandoning all reservation about celebrating your birthday, then, Will?”

Having taken his first step over the stairs, Will turned to the man trailing devotedly behind him. It felt strange to be situated taller than Hannibal for once, to have to lean downwards instead of inching ever upward to catch Hannibal’s mouth with his own. They kissed sweetly, almost chastely, and Hannibal separated from him all too soon. “I’m unreserved about _that_ sort of celebration,” Will said, kissing him again. “You’ve taken great care to that.”

“I’m hardly to blame for your appetite.”

“You’re entirely to blame,” Will said, feeling Hannibal grin into the next kiss he gave him, his hands anchoring into Hannibal’s shoulder for foundation. “You’ve opened a hunger in me.”  
  
Will gauged him for reaction, proud when he saw something shift, subtle and low, in Hannibal’s demeanor. He wanted to continue, to coax Hannibal on with oath and promise, to see Hannibal regard Will with yearning. “I was never this way before, but you done something terrible to me- you’ve ensavaged me and I’m always _wanting_ , Hannibal. I’m so selfish for you now.”

Quite suddenly, Hannibal crowded him, his hands steady over Will’s waist as he pressed him against the nearest wall. Will sighed when Hannibal kissed him, over and over again, their lips lingering over one another’s a little longer each time. Their feet, however, were awkwardly arranged over the scant space of the stair and Will heard himself laugh, registered how his mirth sounded through the emptiness of their house. He laughed so much nowadays. He smiled so often. That was Hannibal’s work, too.

“Take me to our bed,” Will said, baring his neck when Hannibal bent to kiss him there. He could feel the suggestion of his teeth, the line of them light over his pulse. “ _Please_.”

* * *

 

Will fell into the bed with a bounce, grinning as turned and squirmed away from Hannibal, denying his partner any of the kisses he so freely offered on the stairs. Hannibal had him all but caged, settling atop of Will so that the space between their bodies was scant, Will’s knees framing Hannibal’s hips.

“Hannibal,” Will whispered against Hannibal's neck, his fingers fisted over the fabric of his shirt, “I need to see you– god, I want to _touch_ you. I've been dying to get my hands on you the whole drive home.”

“Whatever you want,” Hannibal swore, grinding down against Will’s growing need so that the man beneath him panted and moaned. Will ran his hands down Hannibal's back, both of his hands squeezing and kneading the swell of his ass. They shifted against one another, wrestling in the dim light of their bedroom, rolling their hips together in a desperate rut.

“I almost asked you to stop the car. I kept thinking about pulling you into the backseat, kept thinking about your mouth on me, Hannibal, the feel of you fucking into me in all that cramp space- I still feel you from yesterday, do you know that? I still feel the soreness, the stretch of you."

Hannibal nodded against Will's shoulder. "Would you like it if I did that, Will? If I took you openly, where anyone could see?"

"Yes. Yes, _ah_ \- I wasn't like this before you. It's never been like this. You’re ruining me.” Will groped blindly for the hem of Hannibal’s sweater, groaning at the realization that he’d been wearing another shirt underneath. “Get undressed.”

Hannibal sat up away from Will, earning a whine from him. He cupped Will’s cheek in apology, the flat of his thumb ran sweetly over the rise of Will’s cheek. He traced a path from the elevated skin of his scar to Will’s lips, watching closely as they parted provocatively to his touch. Hannibal felt the warmth of Will’s tongue, could feel the heat of his breath, and, leaning forward, Hannibal kissed him deeply, so that the sound of them meeting and parting, sounding into each other’s mouths with broken and desperate noises, filled the room.

Wordlessly, Will broke away from Hannibal, laying back into the pillows of their bed. Looking up at Hannibal expectantly, Will watched as his partner begin to disrobe. His eyes lingered over his hands, working over the buttons of his shirt. His eyes lingered over the mesmerizing exposure of his skin- the broadness of Hannibal's shoulders, the hair of his chest, the almost lewd tenting in his pants. Worrying his lip, Will undid his own pants, spreading his legs and kneading his hand absentmindedly at the discomfort between them. 

Closing his eyes, Will listened as Hannibal unfastened his belt. He felt the bed dip with the weight of Hannibal crawling over to him on hands and knees. Will shivered, releasing a breath he hadn't known he was holding when Hannibal finally laid his hand over Will’s own, jointly kneading their palms into Will's groin.

With a trembling moan, Will opened his eyes, flushing at the sight of Hannibal so closely knelt over him. He felt small, almost vulnerable under his shadow, and Will touched Hannibal reverently, his hands light over the bare skin of Hannibal’s shoulder. 

"Look at you," Will sighed, licking his lips and caressing downward to the solid strength of Hannibal's chest. "You're perfect. You're so fucking perfect for me, Hannibal."

Hannibal looked at Will with awe, his eyes deep with emotion, faltering only for a moment before he squeezed Will's erection through his clothing. Will gasped sharply,  reacting as if punched to the gut- his fingers immediately fisting at Hannibal’s chest hair and practically _yanking_. Will's eyes widened in realization of what he'd done, an apology hammering behind his lips, ready to spill until-

Until Hannibal moaned sharply with the pleasure of it, his face colored and flushed. Will swallowed audibly. This was different. They hadn't done this before. Will felt his mouth run dry, pulling experimentally at Hannibal's chest hair, moaning at the sound of Hannibal's pleasure.

"I wish that what I feel for you was tangible,” he sighed, kissing the junction of Hannibal’s neck. He dragged his cheek over Hannibal’s chest, his mouth parting over his right nipple. “I want to show you, in flesh and blood, what you’ve done to me and how I adore you for it.”

 Will closed his lips over the pink nub, dragging his teeth over the sensitive and stiff flesh there. He worked it over with his tongue, treating Hannibal to the fleeting touch of his teeth, biting at him ever so slightly. He listened, overwhelmingly pleased, as Hannibal sighed his name, moaned at his ministrations, his voice hoarser than before.

“Should I show you?” Will spoke, breaking away from Hannibal’s chest and pleased to find his skin wet and marked pink. “Fuck, I could show you- with my mouth, my hands, my tongue – “ 

Before Hannibal could respond, Will pulled him down, turning them both over so that Will was situated on top of him. Will looked at Hannibal, flustered and disheveled with hunger, and he bent down to kiss him deeply and desperately. Will bit against the swell of Hannibal's lip, ignoring how Hannibal tugged at his clothing- despite Hannibal’s absolute nakedness, Will remained fully dressed. Tracing a line of kisses down Hannibal’s neck and unto his chest, pausing momentarily to lick and bite at the nipple he had neglected, Will allowed Hannibal’s hand to wander down the run of his back, slipping underneath the material of his pants to cup greedily at his ass. When he felt Hannibal aim to unclothe him, his fingers skimming to the waistline of his underwear, Will stopped his work to swat Hannibal’s hand away.

“Not yet,” Will spoke, giving Hannibal a sharp look, unfazed as the older man frowned and bite his lip, visibly displeased. “Not until I say so- do you understand?”

“Yes,” Hannibal said, taking a breath as Will looked away from him, kissing at his stomach and careful to avoid Hannibal's standing erection. Hannibal had grown softer since their escape together, his stomach more prominent than before. Will kissed at the softness there with adoration, clasping at Hannibal’s sides firmly.  

“Look at how soft you are. You’re _gorgeous_ ,” Will sighed against his stomach. “Scarred and changed by me just as much as I am by you. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than you.”

“Will,” Hannibal said, sounding husky and wrecked. “Let me touch you. Let me take you into my mouth, let me kiss you- I wanted tonight to be for you.“

“This _is_ for me,” Will said, kissing his stomach one last time before trailing down, his nose and his lips finding the familiar trail of dark hair that led downwards toward something more. “You’re mine. This hunger I have for you, how despicable you make me- it’s all mine. You’re what I want.”

“You have me,” Hannibal said, breathing in sharply as Will settled between Hannibal’s legs. "Wholly and entirely, Will. _You have me_."

Will hummed, obviously pleased, and dragged his cheek over the jut of Hannibal’s hip, parting his lips and sweeping his tongue down to the base of Hannibal's cock, leaving a shiny trail of spit.The sight of Will’s open mouth felt like a taunt, a promise of something taking far too long to arrive, until Will took the base of Hannibal's cock in hand, his length thick and stiff and flushed with color. 

Will mouthed at Hannibal’s cock, occasionally running his tongue over his length in teasing, sweeping stripes. Will took his time, lavishing Hannibal and not bothering to hide how he savored the taste of him, the weak, low noises that Hannibal made when Will circled his tongue around the weeping, uncut head. Hannibal's hips rose forward, nearly thrusting into Will's face, and the jerk forward spurred Will to squeeze sharply at Hannibal's thighs, admonishing him.

"I like you like this," Will confessed, blowing teasingly at Hannibal's cock. He felt the man beneath him shudder, could feel the muscles of his thighs contract with strain. "All desperate and tense. I won't suck you if you don't stop, you know. I want you still. I want you waiting."

Hannibal breathed in deeply, shaking his head with the growing desperation. Will kissed Hannibal's pelvis soothe him, bending back towards his aching member but avoiding Hannibal's cock entirely, intentionally rubbing the prickly and tickling stubble of his facial hair against the inner side of his thigh. "Can you hold still for me? Can you stay absolutely still so I can take you, good and calm for me?"

Hannibal nodded, breathing in deep, centering himself. He remembered the brand on his back and the way he had maintained a perfect silence then. Biting down at his lip, enough to elicit a sharp painfulness, Hannibal considered how every experience with Will worked so differently. This man, settled adoringly between his thighs, was the only person in the world who could take him so quickly, so definitely over the edge of control. 

"You're doing so well, Hannibal," Will spoke, his voice sweet with praise before finally taking Hannibal into his mouth. Will hummed, satisfied when Hannibal spoke his name over and over again, sighing sweet, impatient words in his first tongue. 

“Will –” Hannibal managed before cursing breathlessly, the profanity foreign to Will’s ears. He tugged at Will’s hair, visibly struggling to avoid thrusting up into the wet heat of Will’s mouth as he sucked at him, the sounds absolutely obscene.

Will looked up at Hannibal almost demurely, his mouth still stretched full of him, and Hannibal let out a desperate sound- Will he must’ve known, he thought, he _must’ve known_ what the sight of him could do. Hannibal brought a hand to his mouth, biting down at his knuckles as Will took him in deeper before pulling almost completely away and then, wretched thing that he was, swallowing him down again and again and again.

Hannibal heaved with a deep, shaking breath. When he speaks, it sounds like it takes tremendous and terrible effort. "Darling boy, brilliant thing. I won't- _oh_ , I won't last much longer if you-"

“You can come,” Will said, taking his mouth off of Hannibal’s length abruptly and with an audible _pop_. His voice was hoarse, his lips wet and pink with work. “You can come, but I want you inside me. Can you do that- will you be alright for that, even if I let you come right now?”

Hannibal nodded beneath him, jutting upwards in a silent request for Will's mouth again. "Yes," he swore, his voice strained.

"Promise me," Will insisted, kissing at the sweat-damp skin of Hannibal's pelvic bone. "Promise me you'll fuck me, even if I let you come right now." 

"I promise," Hannibal said. "Will, _I promise_."

The younger man took him into his mouth again, this time working his hands to jerk him off with a steady unison. The joint work of his hands and mouth quickly took Hannibal gasping over the edge. Will felt the shuddering tension of Hannibal's thighs, the way his body shuddered and shivered beneath his hands- so tight, so tense before the sweet relief of release and Will _sucked_  sharply, terribly, pushing Hannibal to climax with a shaking gasp. Will swallowed Hannibal's release thickly, taking down what he could and licking at Hannibal's softening length to swipe up what remained. 

Getting off the bed and, standing upright, Will finally went about taking off his own clothes. As he stripped down, Will studied the flush in Hannibal’s face, his chest, the glittering wetness of his cock. Hannibal looked uncharacteristically wrecked as he gazed up, drinking in the sight of Will standing clad in briefs that were visibly strained by his substantial and aching length, the fabric darkly stained with precome.

“Come here,” Hannibal spoke, voice lowered to a whisper. “Let me reach you–“

Will drew closer, climbing until the bed so he was prostrated between Hannibal’s legs, his fingers skimming underneath the waistband of his underwear. Will swallowed, measuring his words, unsure of what would come if he said them and then, deciding, spoke. “Say please.”

Something shifted in Hannibal’s expression, as if there were some way left for him to hunger for Will even more than he had before. His tongue ran a line over his lips, the silence suddenly heavy and tense. “Please, Will.”

Will stripped out of his underwear at last, throwing it callously aside, before straddling his partner, their cocks pressed together between their stomachs. Hannibal looked at him carefully, silently pleading for permission as he experimentally brought his hands to Will’s hips. 

“Tell me what you want me to do now,” Hannibal spoke. “Whatever you want. Anything.”

Will squeezed Hannibal’s hands, sighing happily when Hannibal’s fingers curved so that the crescents of his fingernails dug lightly into his skin. "I want you to bring me the bottle in your nightstand." 

Hannibal obliged, turning to get the small bottle of lubricant from where Will had suggested. Pouring an ample portion onto his hands, Hannibal warmed the liquid in his palms before nearing Will again. Rubbing small, soothing circles into the small of Will's back, Hannibal spread his hand to grip at Will's bottom.   
  
"Your fingers," Will spoke, canting his hips as Hannibal's hand traveled deftly between his cheeks. While his damp fingers kept Will spread, Hannibal wrapped his free hand around Will's cock, pleased to find it leaking steadily with need. Will thrust into the slick pressure of Hannibal's hand, sighing his name, repeating himself: "Your fingers now. Hurry."

With a smile, Hannibal treated Will to a long, drawn-out stroke that made him fall quiet with a shudder, his eyes half-lidded and mouth dropped open. Stroking him hard, not enough to get Will off but certainly enough to pleasure him, Hannibal began to tease at his hole. What Will had told him earlier held true- he was less resistant to the intrusion of Hannibal's index, the ring of muscle giving way with gradual steadiness. 

"Another one already," Will said, thrusting back into Hannibal's hand. "Two and then three for a while- just a little while to start."

"Alright," Hannibal said, speaking softly, almost soothing him. With caution, his middle finger joins his index, the two digits pressed close together and working into Will slowly, delicately until Will takes him, sweet and hot and tight. Holding the base of Will's cock tightly in his hand, Hannibal continues his work- pushing in and out of Will with his hand and enjoying the punched-out sounds Will makes as Hannibal reaches deeper inside him. Adding his ring finger takes a bit more time, but Hannibal manages it and Will takes the added girth as if he was born for it, moaning and sighing, heaving with pleasure.

Then, with eyes fixed on Will's blissed expression, Hannibal crooks his fingers inside him, touching at the bundle of nerves inside him so that Will jolts electric. Pressing at his prostrate over again, Hannibal felt the stirrings of his own arousal, the beginning of a sharp and pleasant ache. "Can I take you now?" he asked, letting go of Will's member and giving it a firm stroke. "Can I fuck you now, Will?"

Will's eyes fluttered shut and he had scarcely begun to nod his head before Hannibal had let go of him completely, withdrawing both of his hands from Will's form all-together. Before Will could mourn the loss, Hannibal pushed him down onto his back roughly, earning a pleased sound from Will's lips. Pouring an extra portion of the lubricant over his cock, Hannibal tugged himself into a stiff firmness before pulling Will's knees upward to expose the smooth firmness of his ass. Lining himself into Will and pushing slowly in, Hannibal faltered at the sight of Will's body giving way slowly, steadily, to him. Without word or warning, Will crossed his ankles over Hannibal's waist, clawing at his hips and shoving to push back into his lover's cock.

They moan in unison, jointly shocked by the sensation. Watching as the head disappears into Will's body, Hannibal thrusts forward until he's bottomed out and Will is panting, almost sobbing at the sensation of being stuffed full. 

"Are you alright?" Hannibal asked, leaning forward to kiss the bridge of Will's nose. 

"Yes, _oh_   _god_ \- yes," he sighed, nodding eagerly as Hannibal thrust into him experimentally. This closely united, Hannibal could almost count his every eyelash, could perhaps lose himself in the flush of Will's cheeks, the dampness of his temple. "I just want-"

"Anything."

"I want it harder," Will sighed. "Fuck, Hannibal, come on, _harder-_  I want to come like this on your cock alone. Take my my wrists, Hannibal, _please_ \- hold them above my head."

Hannibal obeyed without question, resting both his hands over Will's wrists and pinning them down into the mattress. Now, having bent over Will's body in such a way way, Hannibal stretched Will down further than before. The new depth such a position provided them- delicious and almost too much for them both- warranted a new litany of sighs and sounds from them both. Canting his hips at just the right angle, Hannibal snapped into Will roughly. Within a few moments, Will began to meet every single one of Hannibal's thrusts, grounding down onto his dick, shameless in his need.

"There, oh fuck, _yes,"_ Will said as they frenzied into a hurried and desperate rhythm, Hannibal fucking right into the intimate and powerful spot inside of him. Clawing at the muscles of Hannibal's back, Will let his head drop back as Hannibal pushed into him with enough force to move them both, inching them towards the headboard of the bed with every other thrust. Then, on instinct, Hannibal took one hand off of Will, fisting his fingers into his curls instead, and _pulling_. Will gasped sharply, clenching around Hannibal's length, moaning as if in pained. 

Shouting Hannibal's name as if in plea for salvation, Will felt something in him coil tightly right before Hannibal moved just right, with just enough rough intention. Will was pushed over the edge with a cry, tears springing into the corner of his clamped-shut eyes, as pleasure rushed over him like a flood. Hannibal continued pushing into him, bending down to mute Will's lingering whimpers with a fevered kiss. Will, snaking his hands free from Hannibal's grasp, framed Hannibal's face in his hands, allowing one kiss to slur and melt into another until Hannibal's rhythm stuttered and he came for the second time, filling Will with his release. 

* * *

Will ran his hands through Hannibal's hair, brushing stray stands away from his face. In their time together, Hannibal's hair had grown much longer than before and Will smiled, suddenly reminded of how much it suited him. Curled towards one another in their bed, Will kissed the bridge of Hannibal's nose, trailing upwards until he had blessed his forehead with an affectionate peck. They were now, the two of them, teetering over a deep and wonderful sleep. 

"Hey," Will whispered softly, touching Hannibal's shoulder. Hannibal hummed in affirmation, listening but unwilling to open his eyes. "I just wanted to thank you- for today, I mean. You didn't have to do half of the things you did. But, I'm glad."

Hannibal hummed, turning his head as Will continued to play with his hair. "I was happy to do it. You deserve more than I can give you."

Feeling his own eyes grew heavier, Will yawned and drew closer to the man lying beside him. Tomorrow, they would shower away the sweat and want of moments prior. They would brave and chase the day away together as was their custom now as partners, lovers, two halves to a tremendous and terrifying whole.

"You're enough, though" Will said, stroking Hannibal's hair one last time. "You're more than enough." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! This was, admittedly, pretty difficult to write. Guess I still don't have my feet in the waters just yet, writing sex scenes are still v new to me. Anyways, hopefully it was easier to read than it was for me to write! I truly hope you enjoyed, gang! 
> 
> Hit me up with a comment or something if there's something you'd like to see in another one-shot (or, in this case, two-shot) either in the comments or on my tumblr (Marsza).


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